


Slab of Fear

by Winchestackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, Cemetery, Claustrophobia, Darkness, F/M, Fingernails, On a Slab, On a case, POV Multiple, PTSD, Phobias, Salt and Burn the Bones (Supernatural), Slight torture, Swearing, Warehouse, ghost - Freeform, headwounds, injuries, morgue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchestackles/pseuds/Winchestackles
Summary: Claustrophobia...it never was a thing...until now!
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	Slab of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by fanfic I have previously read...sorry that I don't remember the titles or authors.

**Kristen's POV**

“Fucking, really?” I groaned, getting out of my car and looking at the creepy-ass building before me.

Me and the Winchesters were on a case of a malevolent spirit that was haunting an old abandoned warehouse that a company was trying to tear down so they could rebuild a hotel on the location. It was a prime spot near a river and a hotel would be beautiful here…save for the homicidal ghost that was killing every man that stepped onto the property.

That was why Sam and Dean were digging up the bones of who we thought was responsible for the murders, while I was here at the location. The ghost had only been killing the men that stepped inside…women he just scared off the property. And since I was a bad-ass hunter with the constitution of a rhino, the ghost had no chance of scaring me away. It was my job to find the perfect area to do the salt-n-burn, preferably near where the ghost had died as a corporeal human.

And of course, he had to have died in a creepy fucking building instead of an open-air space in a park or something.

I reached inside of my car and pulled out the shotgun Dean had given me at the cemetery, the one he questioned me about and gave me a “lesson” in using. It wasn’t until I dissembled it and reassembled before him, that he shut up and realized that I knew more that he thought I did.

I may be young, but I wasn’t inexperienced.

I had been hunting longer than Dean had when Dean was my age.

I knew a thing or two about a thing or two.

Just like I knew the boys would be expecting a spot to burn the bones when they were finished digging them up and standing here, procrastinating about going inside, wasn’t finding that spot.

I took a deep breath, hitched up my _big girl_ panties and headed inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had already cleared the first floor.

The first floor was done up to look like a car workshop.

There were rusted and dilapidated car parts everywhere, shelving units with expired oils and other various fluids and parts on them. Plastic sheets hung up in the windows, covering them in an eerie darkness, which needed no help since it had been raining all day and the skies seemed to be a permanent steely grey color. And because it had been raining, due to the leaky roof, there was an occasional droplet of water that hit something metal, creating a creepy plop noise that never failed to make me jump.

Making one last sweep with my flashlight, I noticed an old door in the back corner of the room, the hinges orange and flaky with rust. I turned the handle but it wouldn't budge.

Nothing a good kick wouldn't fix.

Turning my back on the door, I lifted my right leg and kicked back with all my might, my boot connecting with the lock mechanism of the door. There was a loud creak and then a louder bang and the door flew backwards, down a flight of metal stairs, much like a surfboard skimming the surface of the water.

“Well that was easy” I scoffed, not realizing that I had that much strength in me.

It made me feel proud.

Which lasted until I descended the stair and realized that the workshop above was nothing like the space below.

I was now standing in what looked to be an old morgue, which made much more sense than the auto shop above.

The man we believed to be responsible for the murders was a mortician with a sick sense of humor. Not only was he known for “dolling” people up in macabre ways for their funerals, he was known for killing people who weren’t _quite_ dead yet, all so he could have them in the afterlife…and yes, that’s _exactly_ what you think that means.

Have them, like have them physically and forever.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he was also suspected of grave robbery and illegal taxidermy…as in taking this body part and putting it on that corpse.

I shuddered, remembering the pictures I had seen in his case file.

The dude was a fucking sicko…and now I was trying to hunt him down.

What did that say about me?

I momentarily had a temptation to call Sam or Dean, just to hear their voice and assure me that I was ok as much as they were, but I shook the thought from my head and pushed on with my exploration.

Dean already thought I didn’t know anything, I could only imagine what he’d think of when I called him _just to hear his voice_.

Scoffing and shaking my head at myself, I clutched my shotgun tighter in my hand and started to do a sweep of the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I came across a long hallway and the beam of my flashlight bounced around the area.

I could see that there were several doors, all encased with cement, which made sense since this was a basement, but it didn’t help the creep-factor. The walls were green and murky-looking, covered in what looked like to be a toxic mixture of mold and moss.

I wondered briefly if it was safe to breathe in this shit, but then started to make my way down the hallway to explore each room.

One of these hellholes had to be where that fucker had died, taking his own life before he could be brought to justice for the atrocities he had committed.

It was just as damp and wet down here, as it was upstairs, more so, actually.

Water made the floor look shiny and added to my disturbing surroundings.

I raised my flashlight and my shotgun and began the task of clearing each and every room down this hall.

Each room, and the rooms that branched off of them, proved to be empty.

I was nearing the end of the hallway, getting excited to be done with this scary-ass place, when it happened.

I had just peered into the doorway to my right, when an ice-cold chill ran up my spine and before I could turn to unload buck into what I knew was the ghost, there was a sharp pain in my abdomen.

I gasped and looked down, shocked to see what looked to be a bite mark on my skin that was starting to bleed.

“Shit” I hissed, turning to leave the area.

That was when I felt something take a hold of my hair and throw my face forwards, right into the cement doorframe.

Pain like I had never experienced before, flared up behind my eyes and a darkness took me over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I came to, it was dark…like no hint of light ever existed, dark.

And it was cold…so very cold.

Like I was in a freezer.

My forehead seared with pain and I hissed, raising my arm to feel the knot I could sense there…only cold, wet stone brushed against my knuckles and I jerked away from it, only to bang my elbow on a hard surface. I could feel my breath bouncing off the surface in front of me.

Immediately I knew where I was and I cried out in terror.

I was in the morgue, on a slab where dead bodies go.

The space was so small, I couldn’t turn, and I started to panic.

Small spaces had never been a problem for me before, but this just wasn’t a small space.

This was a small space that countless dead bodies have occupied and probably a few not-so-dead bodies.

The thought of never being found and dying here, made a hysterical scream rise in my throat.

Knowing I needed to calm down, I tried my best to steady my breathing.

I needed to buy some time for the boys to find me and I couldn’t do that if I used up my oxygen supply panicking.

Oh god, the boys!

My hand shook as I reached for my pant’s pocket, praying to god that my phone was still there.

As my fingers brushed against a rectangle shape, I sobbed with relief.

Gingerly, I pulled the phone from my pocket and shifted my hand and fingers, trying to remember where the speakerphone button was.

Finding it, I pushed it and number one on my speed dial, and the slab suddenly filled with the ringing of a phone.

“Hello?” Dean’s deep voice filled the tiny space I was stuffed in.

I couldn’t help but to cry out in relief at the sound of his voice.

“Kristen? Are you ok? Where are you?” Dean immediately bombarded me with questions.

“Dean, please, you have to come and get me. He got me. The room is so small, I can’t see, I can’t breathe…” I whimpered, knowing I wasn’t making much sense but the panic was taking me over again.

“Where are you?” Dean asked me.

“I don’t know. It’s dark, I can’t see. The warehouse is an auto shop, I was in the basement, it’s a morgue. He bit me and I hit my head. I can’t breathe…” I rushed in response.

“Ok, Kris. Sam and I are on our way. We’ll get there as fast as we can…deep breaths, Kristen” Dean’s calm voice helped me take a deep breath and steady my nerves.

Until I noticed the light of my phone illuminating four long furrows of chipped concrete that was etched into the wall…each splattered with dark splotches of color, which I knew were blood…and each furrow housing a human nail embedded into the wall.

A scream tore through me, uncontrollably.

“Kristen!” I heard Dean’s voice yell into the phone. “What’s going on? Kristen?!”

And then my phone made a weird static sound and chirped, signaling that it had died.

And now I was shrouded in complete darkness again.

**Dean's POV**

I immediately redialed Kristen’s number.

“Fuck” I swore when it went straight to voicemail.

I grabbed my shovel and the bag of bones and hurried to the Impala.

Sam was right behind me, having grabbed his shovel and the salt and gasoline.

“She could be anywhere, Dean” Sam said, holding on tightly as I peeled out of the graveyard and fishtailed onto the road, heading for the cluster of warehouses Kristen was supposed to be casing. “The ghost could’ve brought her somewhere we haven’t found yet.”

“Doesn’t matter” I shook my head at my brother. “We’ve got to find her. She said there was an auto shop above and a morgue below and she was in the morgue.”

“Oh god” Sam exclaimed quietly and I cringed at what his tone implied.

That _anything_ could be happening to her in a place like that.

“She was terrified Sam” I surprised myself by saying. “You didn’t hear her scream…” my voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “We’ve got to find her” I repeated.

“We will Dean” Sam said with a nod, his grip tightening as I picked up speed in the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the third building we had tried, before we knew it was the one Kristen was in.

We followed her footprints to the back corner of the room where there was a metal staircase that led down.

When we cleared the staircase, we knew we were in the right place because we were now in a morgue.

We followed the impressions in the mud, tracing Kristen’s footsteps until we came upon a hallway.

One by one, we cleared the rooms, following her prints until they stopped at the second to last doorway on the right.

I noticed a dark stain on the ground and was just bending down to examine it when something hissed in the darkness and I spun, firing my shotgun at the noise.

There was a furious yowl and then silence.

“Sam, in that room” I pointed behind me and Sam ducked in, taking the bones from me and immediately going about setting them up to be salt-n-burned, getting rid of this ghost once and for all. “Sam?” I called out to my brother as I stood guard at the doorway.

“Yeah Dean, it was here” Sam’s strained voice came back to me and I looked to see him hoisting the bones out of the bag and putting them down in a dark spot on the ground that was outlined with the unmistakable chalk of a body print.

I figured this was the room the ghost had died in since it seemed it stopped Kristen before she could enter and tried to attack me.

“Hurry up Sam” I said to my brother, turning back to come face to face with the grotesque figure of a man in a lab coat. “Fuck” I exclaimed as the ghost grabbed my head and slammed it into the wet concrete.

I blinked back the pain and rolled myself over to come face to face with the ghost again. He dug sharp fingers into my skin and his cold breath reeked of rot. I tried my best not to gag, as I swung my shotgun upwards and blasted off another round. The ghost fell back, stumbling to its feet, before it was in my face again, eyes blazing with hatred and fury. It grabbed my throat and lifted me off my feet, slowly choking the life out of me.

“Sam” I gasped and noticed my brother standing suddenly, revealing what he had been doing while I distracted the ghost…preparing to send off the bones in a blaze of glory.

Sam lit the package of matches and hovered them over the body.

The ghost swung its head around and narrowed its eyes at me.

“Kill me and you’ll never find her” the spirit growled, tightening his grip on my throat.

Sam met my eyes and I knew what I had to do…I nodded to my brother and he immediately dropped the book of matches, lighting the bones on fire, causing the spirit to wail and scream, before it caught on fire and disintegrated before me, releasing its hold on my throat.

I fell hard to my knees and gasped air into my lungs, panting harshly while Sam helped me to my feet.

“Dean, what if it’s right? What if we can’t find her?” Sam asked, his voice tight with fear.

“We’ll find her Sammy” I said, whether it was to give my brother confidence or me, I didn’t know. “We had been down here for a good fifteen minutes and it didn’t attack me until I was over here” I gestured with my arms to the space to the right of me. “I think it didn’t want me to find her, so she’s got to be over here somewhere.”

We both broke out into hurried movements, trying to find any trace of Kristen that we could.

It wasn’t until I saw the fresh blood, that I called out to Sam.

“Sam” I said in a choked off voice.

Sam came running over to where I was and gasped.

“That’s a lot of blood, Dean” he whispered.

“I know” I breathed, feeling the sting of tears filling my eyes. “She has to be here, somewhere” I said, smacking Sam’s chest and getting him to search again.

My boot kicked something suddenly and I ducked down to see that it was a piece of the shotgun I had given Kristen right before we went our separate ways.

I followed the other scattered pieces of the gun, and blood trail that dripped besides them, to a wall of morgue slabs in the very back of the space.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, each one was encased in cement, as this was an old morgue and each slab had a serious of latches and metal locks.

“Oh god” I exclaimed, understanding the sheer panic and terror in Kristen’s voice now.

And so could Sam.

“She’s in one of them?” he nearly squeaked.

My thing was heights and snakes.

Sam’s thing was closed spaces and clowns.

“Hurry Sam” I said and we started to pull each slab out, checking them, until there was only one left.

I gripped the handle and pulled, only it didn’t budge.

Growling, I placed my right boot against the wall and pulled with all my might, until the slab finally shuddered and gave way to my strength, ripping the hinges right from the wall.

As the slab slowly scraped forwards, the room was filled with the godawful sound of cement, tile and metal grinding together…it was enough to put someone’s teeth on edge.

The interior door was furrowed with long scratches made by the fingernails that were still embedded there, not to mention the dark stains of old blood streaked in some places.

And the shiny scarlet of fresh blood.

“Kristen” I gasped and ducked my head and shoulders into the tiny space, allowing my flashlight beam to bounce around.

Then it landed on Kristen’s face.

It was pale and terrified looking, her lips parted around shallow gasps.

Her blonde hair was matted with blood, debris and sheen with sweat and god knows what else.

There was a nasty gash on her forehead that was still bleeding, causing her to lie in a puddle of her own blood.

She had cuts and bruises on the rest of her face and arms.

And her hands…they were scratched up as if she had tried to claw her way out.

“Oh god” I shivered at the thought of being so terrified of something, you were willing to injure yourself, just to try and get away.

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and gingerly pulled her out of the hole and against my chest.

She was ice cold, except for the warm stickiness of her blood.

“Kristen” I called out her name and her eyes clenched tighter together and she tensed everywhere on her body.

“She’s in shock Dean” Sam said, kneeling down next to me. “You’re going to have to pull her from it” he instructed.

“Kris, come on Honey, I know you can hear me” I said, cupping her face and stroking the damp, cool skin there. “Open your eyes Sweetheart” I cooed at the fragile woman in my arms.

I felt her body shiver and then she gulped in air, like she had been holding her breath.

“Dean?” she breathed my name like it was her Hail Mary.

“Yeah, Beautiful, it’s me” I smiled down at her blinking eyes.

I could tell the moment they were focused and locked onto me, because they widened in surprise.

Then she cried out and launched herself at me, throwing me off balance and making me fall hard onto my ass, as she was trying to claw and crawl her way from the slab she had just been imprisoned in.

“Oh god Dean!” she cried and tried to bury herself into my body.

“Hey, hey, Kris. It’s ok, I got you, you’re safe” I tried to console the terrified woman in my arms.

But to no avail.

She started wailing and crying, still trying to claw her way inside of me…until she went utterly still.

“Kris?” I asked her in a panic, bringing her face to mine.

“She’s passed out Dean” Sam said, having placed two fingers to her jugular vein. “Let’s get her back to the motel…”

“No” I cut off my brother, allowing him to help me to my feet, as I wrapped my arms protectively around Kristen’s limp body. “The case is done, I’m taking her back to the bunker. She needs to be _home_ when she comes to.”

“I’ll take her car back to the motel and get our things and meet you back at the bunker” Sam nodded and then sighed. “Are you sure we shouldn’t take her to the hospital? That wound looks bad, Dean” he pressed a part of his shirt he had just ripped off, to her forehead.

“I’d like to try and heal her at the bunker if we can…if not, then we’ll take her to the hospital. You know they’ll ask questions we can’t answer. And she hates hospitals” I added with a sigh of my own.

“You’re right Dean” Sam nodded and released me. “I’ll see you soon” he said and hesitated for a moment before ducking down and kissing Kristen’s cheek. “Hang in there, Kris” he whispered emotionally and then took off upstairs.

I smiled at my brother’s sappiness and turned to make my way upstairs and to the Impala.

The way this woman had changed our lives…neither one of us would be the same.

**Kristen's POV**

I was aware of this godawful noise and sat straight up, not realizing it was coming from me until I started having a fit of coughing.

Wait, I was able to sit up.

Did that mean…

“Shh, Kris” I heard a deep baritone voice say from next to me.

I turned to see a disheveled and stressed Dean Winchester, sitting on the edge of the bed I was lying on.

My bed.

I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

“It’s ok, Sweetheart. You’re safe” Dean gave me a tentative smile and took my hand in his.

“Oh god Dean” I cried out and climbed atop of him, burying myself deep into his body, as if it could save me from the world around me.

“Shh, Kris, it’s really ok” Dean immediately wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. “We’re safe at the bunker, Babe.”

I couldn’t help the way I sobbed into the man’s neck, as I clutched him harder to me.

I could feel the terror and panic rise again, quickly.

“Hey” Dean said, cupping my face and making me meet his eyes.

He grabbed my hand and placed it to his chest, as he placed his free hand to mine.

“Breathe, Beautiful. Copy my breathing, ok?” he pleaded with me.

It was enough to have me listen to him and do as he asked.

After a long moment, my breathing was as normal as Dean’s was.

“Better?” he asked me, his voice soft and intimate.

It made me blush, not to mention the fact that his hand was on my chest.

I nodded and took a final deep breath in and let it out slowly.

“That’s my girl” Dean smiled at me and stroked my cheek with his thumb.

I frowned at my bandaged hand on his chest and lifted my other one, only to find it bandaged too.

“What happened?” I croaked, meeting Dean’s eyes again.

Instead of answering me immediately, Dean stood, taking me with him, lowered me back onto my bed and then surprised me by crawling into it with me. I was lying on my back and he was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, gazing down at me.

“Well we salt-n-burned the ghost and we found you and treated your wounds” Dean hedged.

I could tell there was _a lot_ he was leaving out.

“As for what you’re _really_ asking…you have a nasty head wound, a black eye, two broken fingers, a bite mark to your abdomen and wounds on your fingers” he informed me.

“I tried to claw my way out?” I asked and Dean nodded. “I don’t remember that” I frowned at my hands.

“What _do_ you remember?” he asked me cautiously.

“I remember the warehouse, the autobody shop, kicking in the door to the basement…” my words faltered and I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. “A hallway, a doorway, being bitten, my face hitting a doorframe and total darkness” I shuddered, my breathing starting to get shallow and fast again.

“You’re ok Kris” Dean cooed softly, placing his hand on my chest again. “Deep breaths, Babe” he instructed.

I nodded and took several deep breaths in and out before I continued.

“In the darkness, I tried to get to my phone since I couldn’t move or turn. I remember calling you. I remember you saying you were on your way. I remember seeing blood and nails above me…” I stopped talking to take a few more deep breaths. “Then my phone made this weird buzzing noise and I was in the darkness again. I remember something icy washing over me…my last thought was of you…and then nothing” I shyly admitted, dropping my eyes from the man.

There was no way in hell that I was going to own up to the fact that the very last thought I had was if I would ever see Dean again and be able to stare into those emerald green eyes of his.

In the span of a heartbeat, I was suddenly pulled into Dean’s strong arms, as he crushed me to his chest. He buried his face in my neck and nearly rolled on top of me, as he held me tight and held me close. I could feel the man trembling all over as he took deep breaths of me in.

Not knowing why he was acting the way he was, I took advantage of the closeness and wrapped my arms around the man in return, burying my fingers in his hair and burying my own face in his neck, breathing him in deeply.

Dean always smelled of Old Spice, leather and gun oil.

We stayed like that for an insurmountable amount of time, holding each other tight and close, as if we’d never see each other again.

Then one word broke the silence between us.

One word made everything make sense…the sentiments Dean was calling me, the worry in his tone, the concern in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch.

One word changed everything between us.

“Kris” Dean whispered my name, his voice catching with thick emotion.

It was my name but it explained so much to me.

Dean had feelings for me, I was more than a fellow hunter to him.

And I had nearly died, with him nearly not finding me in time.

So I said the one thing that would let the man know that he meant just as much to me, as I did to him.

I said the one word that never failed to bring me courage or strength.

The one word that got me through the horror I had been through.

“Dean” I whispered in response and the man pulled back to meet my eyes.

They were red-rimmed from crying and he looked absolutely distraught.

He also never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment.

Staring at me for a long moment, Dean cupped my face with a strong hand and brought his lips to mine, kissing me gently as if I were a fragile piece of glass, ready to break at any moment.

And I realized in that moment, that’s _exactly_ what I was.

After what I had been through, I _was_ fragile.

There was no brushing this off and then jumping back in the saddle.

I was scarred and I was terrified.

This would take _weeks_ to heal from.

Weeks that Dean was promising me he was going to help me get through, via his tender kiss.

I cupped his face in response and deepened the kiss, silently thanking him for being my knight.

Truth was, I could face everything, recover from anything, as long as I had Dean Winchester at my side.


End file.
